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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099369">Demonic Healer, Angelic Assassin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer'>qwanderer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Good Omens AU, M/M, secondary character death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:14:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25099369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwanderer/pseuds/qwanderer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It began, more or less, when a very young angel called Jewels refused to be edited. Not again.</p><p>“Do I have to?” Jewels said, as he looked at the Almighty’s metaphorical potter’s wheel, not wanting to step onto it again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Demonic Healer, Angelic Assassin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This started on tumblr <em>more than a year ago</em> with <a href="https://qwanderer.tumblr.com/post/185572158369/qwanderer-tinsnip-tinsnip-qwanderer">this post</a> and can also be found <a href="https://qwanderer.tumblr.com/post/622850307525951488/the-beginning">here</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h2>The Beginning</h2><p>It began, more or less, when a very young angel called Jewels refused to be edited. Not again.</p><p>“Do I have to?” Jewels said, as he looked at the Almighty’s metaphorical potter’s wheel, not wanting to step onto it again.</p><p>The Almighty, as was Xir wont, made Xir reply known in a manner which was clear and definite, but which was, being ineffable, not easily put into words. However, in this case, the most basic and accurate translation was probably <em>Yes.</em></p><p>“…I don’t want to,” Jewels said, still declining the place prepared for him on the celestial workbench.</p><p>His Creator gave a sharp interrogative response.</p><p>“I like who I am,” the young angel said. “I don’t want to lose any of it.”</p><p>The Almighty expressed disbelief, and slight annoyance that he would think Xe would make changes that were not, on the whole, desirable in every way.</p><p>“They’d be very nice, I’m sure,” Jewels said dutifully, “but I don’t want them.”</p><p>His Creator’s reply had rather more thunder to it, this time.</p><p>“No,” said the angel. He was shaking in his metaphorical boots (shoes hadn’t been invented yet, as there wasn’t really a need for them, without an Earth to walk on) but he wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of - the wrath of his Creator, or what might become of him if he submitted himself to Xem again.</p><p>Xir reply, this time, was incredibly exasperated. Xe pointed out some of Jewels’ rougher edges.</p><p>“Is that what you think?” the angel asked. “If this is ugly, if this is unrefined, maybe I like being a bit ugly. A bit unfinished.”</p><p>The Almighty’s response was hard. But Jewels - or whoever he was, if he wasn’t going to be what his Creator intended - had made his decision, as well.</p><p>“Stop trying to polish me,” he told Xem. “I’m shiny enough as it is.”</p><p>Xe did the equivalent of barking his name and pointing a finger at where he should be, right now, or earlier if possible, which it was, if Xe had anything to say about it.</p><p>“I’m not your pretty treasure,” the angel said. “Don’t call me that anymore.”</p><p>There was another interrogative response.</p><p>“Call me Julian,” he said. “I’m young. I’m incomplete? Maybe that’s just who I am. I would like to enjoy it for a while.”</p><p>And he left, before he lost his nerve.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>He hadn’t meant to start a rebellion in heaven. Everything sort of just… spiralled out of control.</p><p>If angels could refuse to be edited, the other rebels thought, if angels could embrace their faults, the sinful things they desired, and keep those things, then why shouldn’t they?</p><p>Lucifer, who was a particularly wrathful angel, a preliminary sketch of a being designed as a great warrior and defender of heaven, began gathering people who agreed with him. Or, as it turned out, more accurately, amassing an army.</p><p>Julian could most definitely not, in good conscience, decline to join their side and defend their rights to continue to be themselves. Even if, as time went on, he found he didn’t much like who Lucifer and his followers turned out to be.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>Well. The second week of the existence of the world had certainly been… interesting.</p><p>The angel of the Eastern gate had never thought of himself as a sword person, anyway. Especially not a flaming sword. That seemed like the sort of thing your enemies would see coming from a mile away</p><p>Elim was already having doubts about who exactly might constitute his enemies when the time came. The way things were playing out tended to make a being… question the Plan.</p><p>Well, all the more reason to keep things close to the vest. Elim set about the task of being such an undeniably <em>good</em> soldier that no one would think to ask what he’d done with that blasted sword.</p><p>And certainly no one would try to poke about in the components of his being, rooting out imperfections.</p><p>Not even Xem.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>Julian had never set about being evil on purpose, but these days, it seemed, it was a job requirement. He didn’t particularly like being on Lucifer’s side, but he liked it more than he’d have liked being a plaything of the Almighty, he was sure. And if you couldn’t call yourself a loyal member of one of the two sides, then <em>both</em> sides would be after your hide, rather than just the opposition.</p><p>The fact that he’d been the first to say “no” to the Almighty got him some recognition in Hell, but it didn’t seem to do much in terms of getting him any say in how things were run. Lucifer had been meant as a leader, a general, an inspiration, and Julian…</p><p>Well, Julian wasn’t quite sure what exactly he’d been intended to be. And he was still determined never to find out.</p><p>So, there was war over the souls of humanity. And Julian, from the very beginning and for a very long while, had been happy enough helping humans to realize that they didn’t have to blindly follow the side of the angels. They could do what they wanted and damn the consequences.</p><p>He believed in his message, by and large. He believed that rebellion against the Almighty was what people ought to do. But the struggle itself, between the larger figures, the powerful Angels and the monstrous Fallen, was good for nobody, except perhaps the egos of their leaders.</p><p>Julian had been wondering if he oughtn’t approach the problem more head-on. There was probably not much use reasoning with the Almighty Xemself. He’d tried that already. But perhaps… if he could face the Angels, Gabriel, Michael, perhaps even the legendary Elim himself, he could - what? Make them see the error of their heavenly ways?</p><p>Julian had been pondering this for some time when news of Elim’s deeds stopped filtering through to his contacts in Hell.</p><p>It was as if the angel had vanished. And that frightened Julian more than almost anything ever had, more than anything since the beginning of the world.</p><p> </p>
<h2>The Middle</h2><p>Being terrifying was lonely. Having one’s own allies be terrified of one, especially so.</p><p>Elim was very good at terror. Very good at getting things done, at scaring people straight. It was what heaven seemed to want from him, the whole “put the fear of God in people” schtick.</p><p>He would have tried harder not to fall so completely into the role, if he didn’t find his fellow angels so stultifyingly boring.</p><p>After centuries of executing the orders he’d been given, influencing humans and reporting back on their deeds, good and bad, Elim was becoming very much aware that he preferred the company of humans to the company of his fellows in the celestial throng.</p><p>One day, after a particularly harrowing evening of dull music and worse poetry that his cohorts had dragged him to after he’d come Upstairs to report, he found himself weighing the options of continuing to uphold his angelic duties to the utmost of his abilities, versus coming up here as little as possible in the future.</p><p>Possibly, he could cajole his way into a long-term assignment. Something focused on… changing human society for the better. The abolition of slavery, perhaps. If Elim knew his human charges at all, that would take some time. Perhaps even the rest of it.</p><p>Humans could be so very ugly, when they’d gotten used to a thing and you tried to take it away.</p><p>Eventually Elim opened a bookshop, and in between the slow and arduous process of pushing humans away from the worst of themselves, he took comfort in the small conversations he had with the customers who wandered into his shop.</p><p>But they were only human.</p><p>He wouldn’t admit it, even to himself, but it wasn’t enough. Even on the rare occasion when he found someone with whom to discuss the deepest experiences of humanity, there was a hole left untouched within him, where the fact of his divinity rested.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>Julian wasn’t exactly looking for Elim. Well, maybe he was, in a general sense. He’d been paying close attention to the little rumors here and there for the last three centuries or so, when solid information on the angel Elim had become so hard to come by.</p><p>But at the moment he caught the odor of otherworldliness, of an Angel, he was simply wandering London, looking for a diversion of some kind.</p><p>It was 1797, and the chaos and rebellion in France had been continuing quite well on its own for some years now. Julian, as a result, had been keeping well away and mostly inspiring lust and wrath where he could, in little entertaining ways.</p><p>When he caught the scent, he didn’t know whether to be intrigued or terrified at the thought that it might be Elim, but he supposed, upon reflection, that he had no choice but to feel both.</p><p>He followed the scent until it led him to a small, elegant little building, where a sign above the door read, <em>Garak: Bookseller</em>, with a lot of fancy wrought-iron swirls around it.</p><p>He supposed that no matter who the angel was, in all bad conscience he ought to take a look and see what holy business they were up to. Maybe do his best to derail it, though that had never quite been Julian’s strength.</p><p>To be honest, Julian’s strengths as a demon had generally lain in two main avenues: asking awkward questions which caused people to act impulsively out of discomfort or to question their own convictions, and straightforwardly asking people to do the things they already wanted to do but just hadn’t had an opportunity so neatly present itself yet.</p><p><em>Another drink? A secret kiss? Spend the night with me?</em> had been his old standbys in that latter arena. But to be honest, he usually found the former avenue more fascinating, although so many of those questions tended to boil down, in the end, to a single word. <em>Why?</em></p><p>He’d never had them work on anyone outside of humans, though. Angels had tended to reply “Because Xe says so,” and other demons, just to be contrary, he supposed, said something more along the lines of “Because Xe says not to.”</p><p>An angel who’d fallen off the face of the universe, through the cracks of the rumor mill at Headquarters, though, they might be a little more interesting about their phrasing, at least.</p><p>Julian pushed open the door, and the scent of Angel, familiar and too clean but somehow just a little more spicy than he remembered, intensified.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” a voice asked, and Julian turned to see an angel, looking at him with careful, veiled suspicion.</p><p>“I’m looking for a book.” Julian’s eyes roamed the shop. There wasn’t anyone else there. “So would you be Garak, the bookseller, by any chance?”</p><p>The angel spread his arms illustratively. “In the flesh.”</p><p>With such an invitation, Julian let himself have a good, curious, probing look.</p><p>Garak was, of course, beautifully and neatly dressed, in a rich and complex suit appropriate to the time and place, done up in soft materials of mostly tawny golds and browns. He had a slight, comfortable roundness to his form which, in Julian’s experience, was unusual for angels. He was, however, fairly obviously otherworldly from the collar up, with a sheen of gold scales where there should be eyebrows, down the line of his nose, just barely dusted across his cheekbones and down the sides of his neck.</p><p>So close to the surface, and in such a public space, too. It was almost as if he was asking to be seen. But humans rarely noticed that sort of thing, unless someone else made a fuss out of it.</p><p>Julian himself had a slim tail, the only part of his true form he couldn’t seem to banish completely, and so he tended to wear long robes or coats. Even when fashion didn’t exactly call for them, he could usually find a way to make it work, or at least he liked to think so.</p><p>And anyone who got him out of his clothes? Well, he liked to think he could keep them well-distracted, or at least generously provided with drink.</p><p>“Ah,” said Garak, “what kind of a book are you looking for, exactly?”</p><p>“Oh, something exciting,” Julian said carelessly. “I liked Robinson Crusoe. Anything with pirates, really. Swashbuckling. Battles at sea.”</p><p>“Of course,” Garak said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I suppose any kind of redeeming social value is right out?”</p><p>Julian made a surprised, amused noise. “I suppose it depends who exactly is doing the redeeming,” he said. “I’m not generally in favor of blanket redemption, as it were. Some people don’t want to be redeemed, they just want to be left well enough alone.”</p><p>Garak tilted his head to one side, peering at him. After a moment, he bustled over to a corner of the shop, bringing out a medium-sized volume entitled <em>The Adventures of Roderick Random.</em></p><p>“I think this might be right up your alley,” he said cheerfully. “Please do tell me what you think.”</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>Somehow, and Julian wasn’t quite sure how, this interaction turned into the two of them having regular lunches together, discussing literature, philosophy, or simply whatever was on their minds. And still Julian had less than no idea what work exactly Garak was doing in Heaven’s name, or how he went about it, or when.</p><p>Garak, however, learned fairly easily what Julian got up to, and he made his opinions clear.</p><p>“Trivial,” Garak told him. “And tawdry. A drunken roll in the hay here or there is hardly something to get excited about, one way or the other. I really do think you’re letting down your side fairly badly.”</p><p>“Well, could you do better?” Julian asked.</p><p>Garak’s mouth quirked, and, eyes on his food, he said, “I really couldn’t say.”</p><p>The tone was eloquent, and somehow Julian knew that if Garak thought he <em>could</em> say without getting into trouble, he’d be saying quite a lot right now.</p><p>Julian liked him.</p><p>Julian liked him rather more than anyone else on Earth, or Below, and certainly Above.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>Months passed this way, and still Julian hadn’t run out of questions. Perhaps because there was one particular question that part of him had been wanting to put off.</p><p>They were both somewhat drunk when Julian finally worked up the nerve to ask, “Do you know an Angel named Elim?”</p><p>Garak stiffened. If he’d been sober, it probably would have been imperceptible.</p><p>“You recognize the name,” Julian noted.</p><p>“Yes,” Garak said after a pause, putting his glass down. “Elim was a friend of mine, once.”</p><p>Julian frowned. “I thought Elim didn’t have friends. He has a reputation, you know. For frightening his fellow Angels.”</p><p>“Well he didn’t have friends, except for me. More fool I.” Garak sounded bitterer than Julian had ever heard him.</p><p>“What did he do?” Julian asked.</p><p>Garak snorted quietly, made to pick up his glass again, and then apparently reconsidered. “The fool ‘lost’ the sword that had been given to him to guard the gate of Eden.”</p><p>“Lost it?” Julian asked.</p><p>“He gave it away. To a human. What a mistake to make. Treasonous. Dangerous. Unstable.” He raised an eyebrow in Julian’s direction. “Frightening, if you like.”</p><p>“Oh, come now. He was an angel. It couldn’t have been so bad.”</p><p>Garak shrugged. “He went into hiding because of the sword, you know. Our superiors found out what he did and are very anxious to get their hands on him. He may Fall, if they find him. Who’s to say he hasn’t Fallen already, really?”</p><p>Now, that was a question. If an angel pretended well enough to be obedient, could they have escaped this long without being numbered among the Fallen? “Well, how did they find out?” Julian asked.</p><p>Garak looked him dead in the eye, and said, “I told them.”</p><p>Rearing back a bit, Julian raised his eyebrows. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”</p><p>“My dear,” Garak said, “I haven’t got a bad side. I am an angel. I am good incarnate.”</p><p>Julian snorted. “After what you said about Elim, you want me to think you believe that? That beings are either all the way good or all the way evil? You think I’m evil incarnate just because I got involved with the wrong people?”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Garak agreed. “And I’d be ever so terrified of you if I didn’t think I knew just how to handle you.”</p><p>The contradictions and all the not-quite-outright-lies were all beginning to make Julian a bit dizzy. In that state, one thing he tended to do was fall back on old habits.</p><p>“Why don’t you show me how well you can handle me,” he dared.</p><p>Garak’s glass met the table again with a click. “I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said, and stood.</p><p>“Already?” Julian asked. He had completely lost the thread now, and was just sort of thrashing about, trying to regain a handle on things. When Garak didn’t answer, he asked, “See you next week?”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Garak said, and left, closing the door to the private room at what was one of their usual restaurants with a soft but definite click.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>When Garak joined him for a meal the next week, same as ever, Julian thought the whole thing must have blown over.</p><p>They’d gone to the bookshop, even, for a nightcap and a desultory look through the shop for anything promising Julian hadn’t read. And then, on his way out, Julian heard the arrival of the other Angels.</p><p>Julian, of course, was irresistibly curious and stayed to listen in as they spoke to Garak.</p><p>They called him Elim.</p><p>They asked how his assignment was going, and when Garak put them off in vague terms, “So much accomplished and yet so much still to do, isn’t that the lot of an Angel, I am sure you all have many other things you need to do as well, don’t let me keep you,” the other Angels didn’t press for details, but took their cue and left.</p><p>They seemed frightened, but like they knew they shouldn’t be, or possibly didn’t understand why they were.</p><p>When they were well away, Garak spoke.</p><p>“I would have preferred it if you hadn’t heard that,” he said.</p><p>“Ahh,” said Julian. “Well, I am what I am.” He shrugged.</p><p>“Indeed you are,” Garak said dryly. “Well, now you know something you didn’t before.”</p><p>“Did you really give up your sword?” Julian asked. “Will you really be Damned if they find out about it? Why did you do it?”</p><p>Garak… Elim… sighed. “Always questions,” he said. “It hardly matters now. Suffice it to say… it wasn’t an entirely Angelic decision, and I don’t know the nature of the consequences, but I do like to be prepared for the worst.”</p><p>“You’re going to fight them?” Julian asked, eyes wide.</p><p>“My dear boy. Getting the better of one’s fellow Angels can be… quite a bit trickier than getting the better of one’s fellow Demons. For one thing, hellfire is a good deal more difficult to lay one’s hands on than holy water.” The Angel set his jaw. “But if it comes down to that… then yes.”</p><p>Julian didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what he <em>could</em> say.</p><p>“I hope it doesn’t,” he said at last.</p><p>“Yes, well,” the Angel said. “I have some cataloguing to do, so if you’ll excuse me.”</p><p>He turned his back on Julian with finality, so Julian, unwillingly, left. He wandered around the city for the next few hours, thinking.</p><p>Garak was Elim.</p><p>Elim had given away the sword.</p><p>Heaven didn’t know.</p><p>Whatever it was Garak… <em>Elim…</em> intended to do when they found out, it potentially involved hellfire.</p><p>Oh dear.</p><p> </p>
<h2>The End</h2><p>Julian had a baby in a basket.</p><p>Julian had a half-demon creature meant to end the world, just a small armful of flesh but heir to enormous powers, tucked in a basket.</p><p>Before he did anything, he went to Garak.</p><p>“It’s Armageddon,” he said as soon as he got inside the door of the bookshop. “I’m holding armageddon in my hand.”</p><p>Garak came over and lifted the flap.</p><p>“Well,” he said, “as adversaries go, this one doesn’t look so bad.” He reached into the basket to tickle the soft little cheek.</p><p>The Adversary turned his little head and bit Garak.</p><p>Garak yanked his hand back. “I changed my mind,” he said, shaking his hand. “Nasty little creature.”</p><p>“Hellspawn,” Julian said, shrugging.</p><p>“Put him back,” Garak said with sudden intensity.</p><p>“What?” Julian boggled.</p><p>“Put him back,” Garak repeated emphatically. “Complete your mission, and leave him.”</p><p>Julian boggled. “But the world will end!”</p><p>“Perhaps it will,” Garak said, “but your standing with Hell will be intact.”</p><p>“I don’t care about my standing with Hell!” Julian said, somewhere between a hiss and a shout.</p><p>“How very idealistic,” Garak said dryly. “How very naive. Put him back, for both our sakes.”</p><p>“What about the world?” Julian asked, waving his arms wildly. “What about your shop? What about this?” He gestured now between the two of them.</p><p>There was a look in Garak’s eyes that Julian didn’t like the look of at all. It was cold and hard and just the slightest bit brittle.</p><p>“If you don’t put him back,” Garak said, “I will.”</p><p>Julian wanted to argue, he really did. But he could tell when Garak was willing to be talked around on an issue and when he was going to be stubborn about it. </p><p>He sighed sharply. “Fine!” he said. “But we’re not done talking about this.”</p><p>He delivered the baby according to his instructions, only a little bit behind schedule.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>He prodded at the subject intermittently, waiting for times when Garak seemed to be in a more receptive mood. </p><p>“Don’t you have any ideas about how to stop the world ending?” he’d ask.</p><p>One day, instead of avoiding the question, Garak inclined his head. “Perhaps one or two.”</p><p>“Then tell me!” Julian pleaded. “We can figure out a plan, together. I’m sure of it.”</p><p>Garak tilted his head to one side, and then, very carefully, he said, “Give me what I need to make hellfire, and I’ll consider it.”</p><p>Julian narrowed his eyes. “That, I won’t do.”</p><p>“Why not?” Garak asked as if it was the most reasonable request in the world.</p><p>“I’m afraid you’d get in one of your moods and do yourself in,” Julian accused, although it was only one of many possibilities that had gone through his mind.</p><p>A muscle in Garak’s face twitched. It made Julian fear that this was a more serious possibility than he’d thought. </p><p>“I won’t pretend I haven’t thought about it,” Garak said. “Life here on Earth is grating, constantly hiding what I am from humans and hiding what I’ve done from my fellow angels. I always need to be wary, always have to have eyes in the back of my head, and I often long for it all to stop.”</p><p>Julian shook his head. “Is it so terrible? I thought you liked your life. I thought you liked being able to go out and have lunch and talk about all the books you’ve collected!”</p><p>“I do look forward to our time together.” Garak sighed. “Isn’t that sad? Isn’t it a sad life when the highlight of my week is arguing the minutiae of literary history with a demon?”</p><p>Julian pushed away the hurt that came with the pointed reminder of his nature. That wasn’t what was important now. “You’re certainly not getting the hellfire now. I won’t help you end it. I want to help you! But not that way.”</p><p>Garak clasped his hands together and simply stood, in that implacable way he had. “Then I’m staying out of the Apocalypse mess. I’m in enough trouble with Heaven as it is.”</p><p>Throwing up his hands, Julian left, and tried not to think about it all too hard.</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>The argument got more frequent, and more desperate, as the critical eleventh year post-baby-swap approached.</p><p>“There must be something we can do!” Julian said, racking his brains. “You could… you could go and ask the Almighty. Ask Xem if there’s any way to stop the war.”</p><p>Garak’s mouth thinned. “I would rather not attract that being’s attention, if it’s all the same to you.”</p><p>“Well, it’s not. Come on, at least it’s something to try!”</p><p>“Julian,” Garak said with a tight breath, “I realize that you don’t have much to lose here by questioning the Plan, but <em>I do.”</em></p><p> “You won’t once the world ends,” Julian argued. “Or does none of this mean anything to you?” He narrowed his eyes at Garak. “What are you even doing here, why aren’t you off in Heaven if that’s all that matters to you?”</p><p>He bit off any more words that strayed too close to the questions that always made Garak close off and disappear. </p><p>“I have my priorities,” Garak said. “We’ve been over this. There’s only one thing I can think of that has any chance of making a difference. One weapon I might be able to use, if you’d help me get ahold of it.”</p><p>“No!” Julian snapped.</p><p>He almost left, he was on his way out the door of the shop, but there were only a few days left. Garak stood quietly behind him, not protesting his exit.</p><p>What was there to lose, at this point? </p><p>He turned around and asked.</p><p>“What have you been up to all this time? Collecting books, hiding from Heaven? Letting everyone think Elim had vanished into the aether? What is your mysterious agenda?”</p><p>Garak took a breath, and Julian thought he was about to evade again, push Julian away, but instead he said, “Just trying to survive, my dear. Simply trying to survive.”</p><p>“Is that all you’ve got? Your life?” Julian asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “How do you really feel about living? I can’t tell one way or the other, after all the conflicting stories you’ve told. What if I gave you the tools to make hellfire right now? Would you use them? On yourself? On someone else?”</p><p>Garak gave a dry little smile, and said, “Why don’t you give them to me, and we’ll find out, shall we? I’m rather curious myself.”</p><p>There was a long silence.</p><p>“You bastard,” said Julian, but he dug a sack full of sharp-smelling rocks and a tiny little stoppered bottle out of the pockets of his long coat. His hands wavered before setting them down on the desk.</p><p>“You really do care whether I hurt myself with it, don’t you?” Garak shook his head, not waiting for an answer. “I’ve always wondered how the universe makes any kind of sense at all when a demon can be so unrelentingly good.”</p><p>He said it with a tone of contempt, but his eyes were fond.</p><p>Julian took an unsteady breath, and instead of commenting on that, he said, “Well? What’s the next part of your plan?”</p><p>“This is for defense,” Garak said, “in case things get tricky at the end. The rest of my plans are already in motion.”</p><p>⋟𝕚⋞</p><p>To make a long story short, although Garak had spent the last few years sending agents to insure that little Cain Dowling got a good moral upbringing, he’d already begun to suspect that the child was not the Antichrist. So when the hellhound failed to arrive and a copy of an incredibly rare book of prophecy crossed his path, he simply squinted at the sky as if to ask, “Really?” and began studying it intently.</p><p>They ended up at the air base in a timely manner, Julian very confused as to what was going on and whining at Garak to answer his questions, but driving willingly nonetheless.</p><p>“I will, of course, as Heaven’s agent on Earth, dispatch the Antichrist if necessary,” Garak said without batting an eye, “but the Prophets seem to think things might go a little differently.”</p><p>So they watched and waited, ready to jump in at any moment, as a human boy and his friends dispatched the Horsemen and completely failed to restart Armageddon.</p><p>Then, their supervisors appeared. Beelzebub rose up out of the ground with a spurt of hellfire, and Gabriel materialized in a flash of lightning. They turned on the young Antichrist with narrowed eyes, demanding that he restart Armageddon.</p><p>Julian turned to Garak. “Well?” he asked. “What do your prophecies say about this?”</p><p>Garak drew in a tight breath. “Something about playing with fire, if I’m not mistaken.”</p><p>“Well, do you have a plan?” Julian asked.</p><p>“Of course I have a plan.”</p><p>“Are you going to <em>do</em> anything about it? The boy’s obviously in over his head with these two.”</p><p>A muscle jumped in Garak’s jaw.</p><p>“You can’t keep doing this,” Julian said. “You can’t keep standing back, never committing to anything. You may have survived, but I don’t think you’ve lived.” Julian’s voice went low and intense. “There isn’t any more time to put off your choice,” he said. “There isn’t any more wait and see. It all ends here, or it doesn’t. And if it ends, so do we, don’t we?”</p><p>“I suppose we do,” said Garak, looking at Julian. “Well. You’re not going to like this, but it’s all I’ve been able to think of.” He darted forward and picked War’s sword up off the ground. It looked suddenly familiar in his hand.</p><p>Gabriel’s attention was suddenly entirely on Garak. “What are you doing with that?” he asked. Beelzebub turned to look as well, and their eyes widened.</p><p>Julian hadn’t seen this sword in person, so he hadn’t recognized what it was. Not until it burst into flame in Garak’s hand.</p><p>“It still likes me,” Garak said with a small smile that was as mild as it was terrifying. Then he poured something across the blade with a deft hand, took one of the stones out of the little pouch Julian had given him, and struck the edge of the sword against it. He then watched, unsurprised, as the flames curling across that edge of the blade turned a hellish red. His smile widened. “I suppose we’ve both gone a little native.”</p><p>He fell into a fighting stance. “If the two of you want to destroy this world,” he said, “you’ll have to go through me.”</p><p>Gabriel stepped closer, eyeing the sword a little warily but doing his best to retain his air of command. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed. </p><p>In one swift stroke, Garak decapitated him.</p><p>There was a ghostly scream as the hellfire burned through Gabriel’s essence, and his head rolled across the ground.</p><p>“Well, that’s one of you taken care of,” Garak said calmly, turning to Beelzebub. “What do you think of your chances, facing the legendary Elim, bearing a Heaven-forged weapon coated in Hellfire?”</p><p>Beelzebub backed up a couple of smart steps.</p><p>“Tell your boss that Elim has already dispatched one troublesome Archangel,” Garak said almost lazily, “and will happily do the same to him if he so much as shows his face on Earth.”</p><p>With a grumble and a pop, the demon vanished.</p><p>“Well,” said Garak. “That certainly could have gone worse.”</p><p>“Careful with that sword,” Julian said worriedly. “You need to put it out, and for the love of… <em>everything</em>, clean the blade.”</p><p>Garak smiled at him. “I wouldn’t dream of disobeying you, my dear.”</p><p> </p>
<h2>After the End</h2><p>
  <span>Afterwards they sat on a bench and drank wine. They didn’t talk much, not as much as they usually would, but then they had a lot to process.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A delivery van drove up, and the driver approached them, eyeing the two items they’d retrieved from the air base.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There should be a sword,” she said expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garak, who was sitting on the sword, said, “I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about, my dear lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My supervisor’s not going to like that,” the deliverywoman said. But then she shrugged. “Suppose it couldn’t all go off without a hitch.” She took the remaining items and got back into her truck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They watched her drive away for a moment more of silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you give it away in the first place?” Julian asked, frowning at Garak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because before, if I had it, I would have used it. And that was not who I wanted to be even then, Heaven’s good little soldier. I would have been good at it.” His voice went quiet as he continued, “Too good, perhaps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were awfully handy at beheading Gabriel,” Julian allowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garak stared into the empty night. “I suppose there’s no going back after something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Julian agreed. He paused to think for a moment before he asked, “Do you regret it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s far too complicated a question for this hour of the night,” Garak said, and took a swig of the wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re right,” Julian mused. “But sometimes it seems like all I have are complicated questions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such as?” Garak asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian bit his lip, then took a breath. “What if the almighty meant for it all to go like this?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I don't doubt it,” Garak said immediately. “Otherwise I’d have fallen by now. No, I blame Xem for this entirely. I blame Xem for everything, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian frowned at him. “And all the things you clung so tightly to as part of your life as an angel, do you thank Xem for those?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The tattered remnants of a life that was orderly at best and unpleasant at most times?” Garak said with a dry smile. “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why were you so insistent on protecting it?” Julian asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else had I got, really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me,” Julian said quietly. “You had me.” He reached out towards Garak, offering his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garak took the offered hand, intertwining their fingers. “I know that now, my dear,” he said, equally soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian held tight to his hand and waited, because if he knew Garak, then there was something else in the air between them, waiting to be said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I was too accustomed to the idea that anything not on the side of heaven is on the side of hell.” He turned to give Julian a rueful look. “I wouldn’t survive Falling, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re the strongest being I know,” Julian objected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garak laughed loudly at that, a hysterical edge to it. He kept laughing until the sound of it changed to something more like sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian pulled him in close, kissed the golden scales over his eyes, and made little soothing noises. “We survived,” he reminded Garak. “We’re all right. The world’s going to keep turning, and all the interesting little humans are going to keep popping up everywhere all across the place. Because you did the right thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The right thing,” Garak said, still half-laughing. “Killing the Angel who gave me my orders. I wish I didn’t regret it, there’s an answer for you. But perhaps if I didn’t, I’d have Fallen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He deserved it,” Julian insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was just doing his job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian sighed. “Do I need to remind you how many reports I’ve filed Downstairs saying I tempted people into the horrible things they’ve done, when I didn’t need to touch them, because they were just doing their jobs and trying not to think too hard about them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Garak. “But the terrible thing is, in some ways I’m going to miss the bastard.” He turned his gaze to the sky. “All of them, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian hummed thoughtfully, and ran his hand up and down Garak’s upper arm comfortingly. “It’s all right if you miss Heaven,” he said. “Just so long as you know that you have me, now. You have me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Garak sighed, and he sounded almost exasperated. “I suppose you’ll have to do,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Julian turned to glare at him, Garak pressed a kiss to his lips, and when Julian caught on and kissed back, it turned deep and hungry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes of that, they pulled apart just far enough to lean their foreheads together, and Garak said, “Yes, I think you’ll do very nicely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Julian’s turn to laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>⋟𝕚⋞</span>
</p>
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